


There Is No Such Place As Budapest

by Artemis_Luna, somanyfeels



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Murder, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Alternating, Past Child Abuse, Protective Clint, Protective Natasha, What Happened in Budapest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Luna/pseuds/Artemis_Luna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyfeels/pseuds/somanyfeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint was expecting it to be a simple mission. Kill the Black Widow and move on. But that didn't happen exactly.</p><p>Every mission Natasha accepted went smoothly.  Her targets were killed, she was paid, and life went on for her.  Taking out one senator should have been more easy than it ended up being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clint

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! We hope you enjoy the story.  
> Artemis_Luna is writing the chapters from Clint's POV and Somanyfeels is writing the chapters from Natasha's.  
> Feel free to leave feedback.

Clint Barton was at the top of his game. 

 

He was one of best field agents working for SHIELD, more than occasionally getting himself some with the ladies and only twenty seven years old. Life couldn't get any better than this.

 

But now, life decided to screw with him. He was chiding one of the lower ranked agents for accidentally letting his gun fire during their mission earlier and shooting his hand. _Damn amateurs. Why does SHIELD even hire brainless morons?_

 

"Be real thankful you just skimmed me, kid," he said lowly, never mind the fact that he was just a little over five years older than the agent. "You're... suspended. For a week. Yeah, a week. Now, go and do your paperwork or whatever and get out of my face."

 

The agent didn't respond. He just cowardly gave Clint a quick salute before scurrying away. Clint shook his head as he opened his can of soda, nursing his injured hand against his chest.

 

"We're goddamn spies, not soldiers," he muttered as he took a sip, scowling at the floor.

 

"You know, you don't have the authority to suspend any of the agents, Barton," someone said behind him. He didn't need to turn around. He knew exactly who it is. 

 

"Piss off," he said, sipping from his soda as he continued on his way.

 

"You're a field agent, clearance level four. With your rank, you can't do more than eat, sleep and put an arrow through your target's head," Coulson said as he flanked Clint, which was just annoying as hell.

 

"Says the man who practically has a shrine of Captain America in his quarters."

 

"I told you it's a memorabilia!" Coulson hissed.

 

Clint shrugged. "Same thing."

 

Coulson sighed exasperatedly, shutting his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Regardless of what may or may not be in my SHIELD quarters, which is of no concern to anyone, you don't have authorization to suspend agents. You still have a fat stack of paperwork yourself that you've ignored to do for the past week waiting on your desk."

 

"My hand's injured! I can't possibly be expected to work under these conditions!" Clint raised his right hand and waved it around, showing off the wound.

 

Coulson gave Clint an unimpressed look. "You're ambidextrous. Nice try. I'm in charge of you, so all your faults automatically become mine as well. So you better start working on it as soon as you come back from your mission, which Director Fury wants to brief you on."

 

"Yeah, yeah." Clint waved his hand dismissively.

 

~~~

 

"So you can't tell me anything about this woman?" Clint asked, annoyed. He squinted at the grainy photo captured by a CCTV from Germany, eyes locked on the blurred figure. He flipped to the next picture and it was better at capturing the woman's face, but not good enough. It wasn't as sharp as he would have liked, the important details of her face were too distorted. The only thing he could make out was the flaming red hair.

 

"A lot about her is unknown," Fury said. "We haven't been able to get much on her, but she is making quite a name for herself. They're calling her the Black Widow. She's a ruthless killer and has a very specific skill set."

 

" _I'm_ an assassin," Clint deadpanned.  "I do the exact same things she does."

 

"Yeah, but you take out people who threaten global security. The Black Widow takes people out for money. We were able to intercept a message sent to her, and it looks like she's headed to Hungary to assassinate a senator. You mission, agent, is to stop her by all means and put her down."

 

Clint smirked, only hearing a double meaning to Fury's words. "Got it."

 

~~~

 

Clint still didn't understand why SHIELD couldn't just take him to Budapest themselves because God knows how much he hated flying commercially. He was an agent; a spy, if you will. He had been conditioned to think that the world is just filled with bad people and that no one could be trusted. Not even the guy you shared your sleeping quarters with for a couple years.

 

Trust him, he's had a lot of first hand experiences when it came to bad situations.

 

And here he was, sitting in a goddamn awful and cramped seat in the economy class because SHIELD was too damned cheap to have him in the Business or even First class. 

 

Or maybe it was Coulson who booked his flight.

 

He groaned. Of course Coulson was the one who booked his flight.

 

Stuck between a stout—and already snoring—gentleman to his left and a pretentious guy shouting into his phone (even though two flight stewardesses had already told him to turn it off) to his right, Clint began to question his life. Just this morning, he woke up in some cheap motel with a pretty blonde chick draped on him. Then the rest of day happened and he got his hand injured because a stupid intern fired his gun, he still has a shit ton of paperwork to do with Coulson, by the way, hounding on his ass to do it, and then this.

 

Just a few aisles away from where he was seated, a very loud and shrill cry that could only come from a baby pierced the air and into his ears... or well, hearing aids. Thank god he was deaf. He took out the hearing aids and everything became peaceful around him.

 

Okay, maybe this flight wouldn't be that bad after all.

 

The sleeping man beside him slid down onto his shoulder, drool dripping down onto Clint's shoulder.

 

_Yeah, fuck you, too, life._

 

~~~

 

Clint, after hours of being trapped between a drooling man and a know-it-all businessman, eating crappy airplane food, was finally in Budapest Ferenc Liszt International Airport. Going through the hassle of immigration was easy enough, but the security check was always a pain in the ass. 

 

He packed the standard stuff he always brings to his missions. In his duffle, he had a few sets of casual clothes, a tux and two standard SHIELD uniforms. He brought a long a few of his comic books because why the hell not and his walkman. In his checked in luggage, he had his bow, quiver and a dozen of arrows, and two handguns for those 'just-in-case' situations. And that, his equipment right there was always the thing that gets him questioned. 

 

"You came to Budapest to hunt?" The guy checking his baggage raised a brow.

 

"Yes, sir," Clint said, putting on a friendly smile before letting it falter. "Kind of. I got someone to teach me how to shoot stuff." He lifts his injured hand. "I'm not so good."

 

The officer glanced at the damage and clicked his tongue. It wasn't that bad, but it wasn't good either. It was a thin yet fairly deep wound lining from the right part of his wrist up to his little finger. "You did that. To yourself." It wasn't a question.

 

"It wasn't on purpose, man."

 

"So you travelled all the way to Hungary to have someone teach you to shoot guns and a bow. Why? You could have found teachers in your country."

 

"'Cause it's embarrassing!" Clint made sure he really looked humiliated, which wasn't that hard. He's had years of practice with making up cover stories. "You'd think America's a big place, but no. People you know are everywhere and one wrong move you make," he clashed his hands together dramatically, "they'll never make you forget what you did." He slightly pulled down his shirt to reveal some of the scars he got from one of his missions. "Trust me."

 

The man sucked in a sharp breath. "What do you do for a living?"

 

"Put out fires and help people out of 'em."

 

"Shouldn't you be able to know how to shoot a gun then?" The officer began to zip his luggage shut.

 

"You kidding me? All I picked up was to prevent and fight fires, unless you want a bear to start talking about it." Clint took his luggage.

 

The man gave him a strange look but chose not to comment on it. "You have a good day, Mister Barton."

 

"You, too, buddy." Clint flashed a quick smile before walking away.

 

"And be careful," the man called out, "I do not want to go home later today to find out an American male was found dead in our forest because he managed to impale himself."

 

Clint just grinned again, but this time, it was more of a smirk. 

 

~~~

 

_"Agent Barton, have you reached the destination? Please confirm."_

 

"Oh, no." Clint grunted as he set his stuff up in his room in a local hotel. "I'm floating somewhere in the ocean and I called because I need help. So send help."

 

_"This isn't funny, Barton."_

 

"Hey, I'm not laughing over here. I'm..." he squeezed his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he loaded his guns, "drowning." He frustratedly set his guns down and looked out the crappy view of the city. "Why did it have to be Hungary? Why couldn't it be England or even Italy?! At least I could understand Italian."

 

_"You're on a mission, not a vacation."_

 

"Yeah, yeah. So listen, I was thinking—"

 

Coulson sighed on the other line, sounding tired. _"No, you cannot go to a strip club first."_

 

"I—I wasn't even going to say that!"  Clint said quickly.

 

_"Then what were you suggesting?"_

 

"That I take a nap _then_ go to the strip club."

 

_"The Black Widow is targeting in approximately four hours in a very public event. You don't have time for any of that!"_

 

"I think I can squeeze in a nap." Clint said as he heard Coulson raise his voice slightly, reprimanding Clint for—

 

Clint didn't hear the rest of what Coulson was saying. He hung up and plopped on the bed. Just five minutes.

 

~~~

 

By the time he woke up from his nap, he felt satisfied that he felt more energized and the fact that he still had ample time to prepare himself. He took a quick shower and before dressing in his tuxedo, he took a few minutes to look at the photos SHIELD had on the Black Widow. He really couldn't discern anything from her except for the red hair. He didn't know if this chick was hot or not, if she was tall or a hobbit...

 

He almost felt hopeless about this mission. He wasn't scared that he was going to get his ass given to him by a girl (hell would freeze over before that ever happens), but he was more scared of the fact that he might actually fail this mission. According to the Black Widow's file, every target she had was successfully assassinated brutally. Maybe no one had the guts to stop her?

 

Not that he actually cared for the lousy senator. But the thing was he never actually failed a mission.

 

What if he lost this one?

 

He shrugged it off. He was being too hard on himself. He was Clint Barton. 

 

Oh well, Clint was here now.

 

Clint was going to be the one to stop her.

 

~~~

 

Clint had to say, he was looking very dapper in his suit. It was missions like this one where he truly appreciated his job as a spy. He gets to be in fancy ass socialite parties which only meant three things to him: delicious food, great wine and hot women. He smirked at his reflection. He was one hundred percent sure he was going to get laid with a sexy Hungarian woman by the end of the night.

 

After practically staring at his reflection for a solid minute, he straightened his coat as he made his way from the foyer and into the actual house. Before even entering the double doors, he could already hear a bunch of pretentious people talking and laughing, with the minor sounds of glasses and utensils clinking away. He spared a quick glance and a small smile at the man assigned to be by the door, who opened it for him.

 

The sight before him didn't really shock him. He was right in assuming what he had initially thought: pretentious people were everywhere, either talking, drinking or eating. He was dying to catch a bite because the entire platter of food on the tables looked divine, but he had a job. Quickly disappearing into the crowd, he scans the crowd for the senator he was supposed to be protecting. But he isn't really the priority here. He's main mission was to kill the Black Widow. He wasn't sent as a protection detail. 

 

The senator was nothing but bait.

 

Eventually, he found him sitting on the couch with a bunch of younger women surrounding him.

 

 _Great_ , Clint thought to himself. _J_ _ust like the big bad of the Chinese Mafia I took out last week._

 

Nah, no way was he going to approach him. The sleaze might cause a ruckus. So he decided to just stay in the vicinity and keep an eye on him. A waiter passed by him. He hurriedly took a champagne flute to nurse the headache that was starting to mess with him.

 

He took a sip and wow, that was some wine. He's had good wine before, but  _this,_ this was the gods' nectar. He gulped the whole drink in one swig, and it's a good thing he did because as he dipped his head back, he managed to catch the unmistakeable red hair at the corner of his eye.

 

_She's here._

 

~~~

 

Clint left the senator. To hell with him. The senator wasn't his mission. 

 

The Black Widow was.

 

He hastily gave his glass to some waiter passing by as he quickly follow the red-haired woman. 

 

It was odd. To think she was an experienced assassin, she could have worn something better than a frayed brown coat and a pair of old heels. As he went on following her discreetly, he noticed that the woman was  _tiny_. She was short and looked so petite in the worn out coat. 

 

Her appearance made her stand out, but none of the people seemed to care.

 

He wished he had his bow on him so that he could get the job done. But his bow was nowhere near; it was stashed in one of the supply closets here. Even if he had his bow, he wouldn't be able to use it. He had no idea what the Black Widow was capable of and they were in a public place. Too many civilians.

 

What the hell was this Black Widow up to? Her target was long behind them yet she seemed determined to go wherever it was she was headed. Wait, did she know she was being followed? Did she know that she was in SHIELD's radar and that someone was sent to kill her?

 

Ironic, don't you think? An assassin sent to kill another assassin. 

 

But there was no way for her to find out about Clint. Only a handful people knew about this mission: Director Fury, Coulson, maybe the World Security Council... And if he was going to be honest here, he  _knew_ he was sly enough to not make it seem like he was following her.

 

Right?

 

He may have been lacking his bow and arrows, but he was equipped with his one of his guns, and his body was trained to its peak, meaning he has more than just a few tricks up his sleeves.

 

The woman walked right to the glass doors, paused before exiting into the patio. He silently cursed at himself as he slipped into a dark corner and stripped his tux off, revealing the standard SHIELD uniform underneath. Luckily, the cabinet he stashed his bow and quiver full of arrows was in this room. He snuck over to the locker quietly, his feet falling without a sound, and retrieved them. He would have to use a different exit to the patio.

 

He was going to have to go to the place where he can see better.

 

On the roof.

 

He looked around until he found one of the air ducts within the room and was able to squeeze his way into it. As he easily crawled his way through, he couldn't help but reflect on his life. Just a few minutes ago, he saw a wide variety of food on the tables. He never even got the chance to eat since the fucking flight.

 

When he reached the roof, he unlatched the door and slid out with ease. As soon as he was on his feet, he could sense that someone else was on the roof with him.

 

_Oh shit. Freaky Widow's here._

 

He turned around sharply as he drew an arrow back, aiming at the Black Widow.

 

His eyes widened as his arms almost went slack. 

 

Staring back at him with two guns and a calculating gaze was a kid, no more than fifteen.

 

_Fuck._


	2. Natasha

Senators were all the same. They liked their money, their fancy cars and expensive vacations. They were predictable. They were easy. Natalia was expecting a quick kill, a peaceful night’s sleep, and a big payout in the morning.

 

He would be at a party, making a speech on immigration reform. She had scoped out the building thoroughly, memorizing the layout of the house and every exit. She had a plan, a good one, and her plans always worked out.

 

The day of the party, where her senator would make a special appearance, she dressed in the fanciest clothes they had sent her with. It was a black dress, strapless and the skirt falling just above her knees. She slipped on her favorite brown jacket, well-worn but still good. The Red Room had made sure she was affective in any kind of situation; she didn’t need fancy, expensive clothes to blend in.

 

She applied her make up, put forth her best face, and if she acted like she belonged then no one would question her. There was a reason she was the best in the world at what she did. No one even glanced at her as she walked through the large marbled floors of the house.

 

Natalia found her senator easily enough. He was loud, boisterous, and demanded his attention from almost everyone in the room with his drunken laughs and flirtatious shouts to passing women. She could easily get his attention, blink his way just a few times with a sly smile and he would follow her into any dark corner of the mansion she led him to.

 

The blond man caught her eye. He was standing just a few yards from her target, keeping a close eye on the senator before scanning the room carefully, his gaze hesitating when it landed on the buffet. He was looking for something, someone. He carried himself like a fighter, a skilled one who always held the perfect balance and was prepared for an attack.

 

She turned away as his eyes locked on her. From the corner of her eye she could see him slowly start walking towards her. He was here for her. She didn’t know who he was or who had sent him, but he had come looking for her so he was a problem that she needed to take care of before she could finish her mission.

 

She took a step outside, breathing in the fresh air from the patio and listening carefully. The man hadn’t followed her out. He had a sharp eye, probably a sniper, so he would go for the roof. She would just have to meet him there. If not she would have a much better view to find him.

 

She walked towards the side of the house and slipped off her heels before climbing the ivy vines that ran up the walls. It was easy, she was on the roof in less than five minutes and she hadn’t even broken a sweat.

 

Natalia slipped her heels back on again, enjoying the few inches they gave her, and pulled two small handguns from under her coat. She didn’t have to wait long. A vent door several feet away fell open and the blond man slipped out with ease. He was dirty now, smudges of dust covering his face and discoloring his hair.

 

He froze for a split second after he stood up. Then he quickly grabbed the bow that was hanging from his shoulders, nocked an arrow, and raising it to point at her. He was too late though, she already had her guns aimed directly at his head and he stopped his movements.

 

“Hey, sweetie.” She said calmly. English, the most common language spoken in the international world so that’s what she went with. “Looks like you brought a bow to a gunfight.”

 

The man didn’t move for a moment, his eyes studying her face closely. It didn’t matter he would be dead before he could report her appearance to anyone. She would kill him, just not yet. She needed to know who sent him. It would be useful information.

 

The man shrugged. “Happens more often than you would think.”

 

Natalia smiled at him. He was older than her, larger. He would probably think he could easily overpower her and overestimate his chances. He wouldn't necessarily be mistaken, by the looks of him he had at least 20 pounds on her. But he was a long range fighter, she could tell by his stance, his posture, the way his eyes were scanning the grounds from their vantage point on the roof, and most importantly, she could tell by his choice of weapon.

 

"Cut you a deal, little princess." The man said, putting on a charming smile as he leaned slightly towards her. "Come with me and turn yourself over and this won't get messy."

 

Natalia rolled her eyes, he was mocking her. She would kill him right then and there, it would be easy too. She had two guns pointed straight at his chest and he had his bow pointed to the ground, although he did seem to have a good hold on it and was ready to raise it at a moments notice. It didn't matter, bullets were faster than arrows. She just wanted to know who sent him first.

 

"Darling, I don't think I would do too well in a Hungarian prison." She said calmly, raising an eyebrow to him. "I think a Norwegian prison would do fine, I hear they're quite nice."

 

The man shook his head. "I was in jail in Paris once, not so bad. I don't want to fight you. No need for me to ruin a perfectly good suit."

 

"Sorry, I don't go with strangers." Natalia said calmly. "Usually people who seek me out are looking for a fight. They think they can kill me."

 

The man smiled again, there was something distrustful in it. He was going to lie to her, not that she was expecting the truth. People sent after her tend to be liars.

 

"I don't kill kids. No one can order me to." The man said.

 

"I may be young but I can still take you out." Natalia replied. The blond man shrugged and took a small, aborted stop closer, stopping as Natalia raised one of her guns higher to point at his head. "Besides, you say you don't kill kids but that doesn't mean the people who send you won't have the same morals."

 

"If SHIELD killed kids then I wouldn't be working for them." He said.

 

Natalia smiled, nodding to herself. SHIELD sent him, she could handle SHIELD. The man took another small step towards her and as his foot fell she pounced forward, grabbing a hold of his wrist as he swung his bow up. The man was a long range fighter, completely vulnerable in hand to hand combat. A bow was large and awkward, all she had to do was grab hold of his wrist and twist and his aim was thrown off. An arrow flew off the roof and into the dark night sky.

 

She kicked at his knees, but as he dropped to the ground he grabbed a hold of her jacket and dragged her down with him. A quick roll and he was on top of her, pinning her right arm under his knee and a knife pressed to her throat. Natalia blinked, so he was skilled in hand to hand combat. She wouldn't underestimate him again. She grabbed his wrist and managed to pull his hand back just far enough to sink her teeth into his soft skin. The knife dropped form his hand and she grabbed it quickly as she managed to get one leg between them and kick him away.

 

Natalia jumped up quickly. It wasn’t a throwing knife, but she aimed it towards the agent and threw it anyway. If would probably hit its target, but it wasn’t made to be thrown accurately and she wasn’t going to stick around to see if it did. She ran off of the roof. It was a long drop but she had dealt with worse. She rolled as she hit the ground and ran for the shadows. It would be impossible to get her senator now, not with a SHIELD agent milling around. She would have to get back to the safe house and take him out at a later date. It would be inconvenient to the clients but not a deal breaker.

 

She stayed in the shadows of the bushes as she ran silently to the edge of the property. The fence was easy enough to jump over and once she was on the other side there was no way for the agent to follow her. She was too familiar with the area and too skilled at running away. She was gone.

 

~~~ 

 

The safe house was really just a small apartment on the edge of the city. The building was falling apart, the electricity didn't work half the time, and the neighbors were for too loud for her liking. It had running water though and if she wanted a hot shower she could have one. Later though, at the moment she had to call in her failure.

 

She grabbed the phone from where she had stashed it and made the call. It was picked up instantly, the cool voice of her superiors speaking to her in her native tongue.

 

"Has it been done?" They asked.

 

Natalia shook her head even though she knew they couldn't see her. "There was a complication. A SHIELD agent."

 

"We didn't train you for failures, Romanova." The voice said calmly. To anyone else the voice would have probably sounded disinterested, but Natalia could hear the anger in it, the disapproval. It made her skin crawl. "We expect the target to be dead within the week."

 

"Understood." She said just before her superior hung up the phone.

 

She sighed as she walked to the bathroom, kicking off her heels as she went. Senators were routine, they were easy. She had never failed a mission before and she had no intention of starting now, with a simple political assassination no less. The agent was a problem, one she would have to take care of sooner rather than later.


	3. Clint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reminder that Artemis_Luna is writing the chapters from Clint's POV and Somanyfeels is writing the chapters from Natasha's.

_"Your first failed mission is because of a child?"_

 

"She caught me off guard." 

 

Clint took out the knife she somehow lodged into his lower abdomen as gently as possible. Hurt like bitch, but it didn't feel like he punctured any internal organs so he just agonizingly stitched himself up and patched it with gauze. The kid had good aim, he could admit and admire that.

 

"Do Russians have rabies?"  Clint asked, pinning the phone between his shoulder and ear.

 

 _"What?"_ Coulson replied, disinterested.

 

"Kid bit me. Fucking stings."

 

Clint could hear Coulson sigh on the other line.  _"Seeing as you are incapacitated and failed to put down Black Widow, we're sending in an extraction team for you. Agent 13 will be sent to finish the job."_

 

"No!" He protested immediately. "I got this, boss. C'mon, I didn't even get my chance at a Hungarian lady. Listen, I can do this."

 

 _"Barton, you're injured. You are in no shape to be out doing field work."_ Coulson said, a hint of irritation and possibly worry was identifiable in his tone.

 

"I'm fine! I just got grazed." Clint said quickly.

 

_"You got stabbed in the abdomen. For all we know, you have internal bleeding and we have no way of knowing because you're being a stubborn child. You need medical."_

 

"Jesus, Coulson, I'm fine. I've had worse and I know what internal bleeding feels like. Just trust me on this. I can handle the Black Widow."

 

 _"No. You failed this mission, Barton. We're deploying Agent 13 and an extraction team. You are coming back to SHIELD."_ Coulson said firmly. He wasn't going to listen to any of Clint's arguments.

 

Clint shook his head. No, he can't have them come here. Or even if they do, he can't have them hurt the kid. No one should ever hurt a kid. Granted, she had probably killed a lot of people, but he had a hunch there was more to it. She didn't seem like the kind to kill for money or even for sport; someone was ordering her to do it. There was a growing business in the world that involved using kids as soldiers and spies, and it made him sick. He knew what it was like working for people just to get money; he'd been there! And if he was offered redemption by SHIELD, an escape from that life, why couldn't the same be offered to the kid?

 

"Send the extraction team; I don't give a shit. But I won't be going with them, Coulson. I'm not giving up on this mission."

 

 _"You're risking demotion, Barton."_ Coulson said.

 

"Then put me back to level 1! Like I said, I don't giving a flying fuck what you do! I'm going to finish this mission, and even Agent 13 won't be able to do a thing about it."

 

He ended the call and tossed the phone across the room, ignoring the sounds of it shattering to pieces.

 

Why was SHIELD so hypocritical? He was barely a kid too when he was offered to turn from his criminal ways and join them for a greater good. Why couldn't this Black Widow get that same chance? Instead, SHIELD was so hellbent on having her killed.

 

Did they know her true identity? No, that couldn't be. Even Fury didn't know who she was, much less know she was actually just a teenager. It was possible they could have lied, withheld information from him that wasn't vital to the mission; it wouldn't have been the first time that happened. But he knew Fury, he wasn't okay with killing kids either.

 

Maybe they just thought she was lost cause... that she was far too gone to be saved...

 

But that... that was just _wrong_. During the altercation on the roof, he couldn't help but see himself standing at her place: a determined kid trying to get a job done and go home. He wondered what would have happened if he went on with his ways of thievery and murder, all for the glory of money. If he didn't save this girl, what would she become?

 

Everyone's capable of change, or so he'd been told. If she wasn't capable of it, then how would he know? No harm in trying, right?

 

Now he just had to figure out where her next move was going to be...

 

~~~

 

It was a total of thirty minutes of pondering that made him realized he had no idea who this Black Widow is. 

 

He had no idea how she fought, how she functioned or even how she killed.

 

He had no idea how she was going to strike down the senator...

 

His eyes widened.

 

Of course, just go and follow the sleaze around. He won't find the Black Widow by plotting like the bad guy. He had to smart about this. She'd come for the senator first before she'd think about tracking him.

 

He may have no idea who or where she was, but one thing's for sure, he knew that assassins like her don't just back off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave feedback.


	4. Natasha

It was all just a waiting game.  Natalia would have to wait for the next appearance where she could get a clear shot of the senator with minimal security.  She would have to wait until she was certain the man with the bow and arrow had left the city, he was probably injured so it wouldn't take long.  Then once it was all over she would have to wait until she was cleared to leave and go back home.

 

It turned out she didn't have to wait long.  There was going to be a press conference in a few days.  The senator would give a speech, take pictures, and all of that in the open.  He'll be dead before he could even utter a word.  There would be a crowd, easy enough to blend into.  She would have no problem getting close enough to pull the trigger and then disappear without a sight.

 

She spent those few days making sure everything was prepared.  Natalia cleaned her weapons and made sure she had spare ammo so that if she ran into trouble she was ready, she triple checked her outfit to make sure she looked as unextraordinary as possible, and went through countless maps of the city to memorize the best angles, where the senator would actually be, and what the best route for escape would be.  Once the shot was fired people would panic and try to get away, she would have to find a path that wouldn't be crowded with frightened civilians.

 

When the day finally came, she was ready.  The streets were crowded and no one glanced twice at her.  It was almost too easy to get to the front of the crowd and wait.  When the senator finally walked out and up to the podium she did one last double take of the crowd as she reached into her coat for her small pistol.

 

"Wouldn't do it, Princess.  At least not today."  The man whispered in her ear.  She glanced up at him as she forced a smile.  It was the same blonde man from the party, apparently still alive.

 

"I didn't think SHIELD cared so much about little girls like me."  She said back to him.  Her grip tightened on her gun, killing both the agent and her target wouldn't be too difficult, but it would also increase her chances of being seen.  It was a shame the knife she had thrown at him didn't solve this problem for her.

 

"Well, you've made quite a name for yourself."  He said back to her.  "The infamous Black Widow.  I would be thrilled to learn your actual name.  Can I buy you some coffee?"  He nodded towards a cafe on the far side of the square.

 

This would be a bad idea.  He was trying to isolate her from the crowd, probably to finish his mission of either killing her or bringing her in.  It would definitely be less likely for them to be seen over there, everyone's attention already on the speech that was being given.  There wasn't a chance in hell that she would let herself be killed or captured by SHIELD, let alone some stupid, blonde American they sent after her.  Over there she could dispose of him and then complete her mission so she could finally get back.

 

"Sure, I don't see why not."  She said calmly and followed him through the crowd.

 

They sat down right outside the cafe where small tables had been set up.  It was a rather nice place, a waitress came right out and asked for her order.  Normally when she went to coffee shops they were significantly less nicer.  They seemed to care about professionalism here and if the coffee was good then it would be a fantastic dying place for this young American.  They were both silent as they waited for their order to arrive.  It only took several minutes for some sort of caramel thing Natalia couldn't pronounce, she would have to work on that, was in front of her and a large mug of something else was in front of the agent.

 

"I'm not going to kill you."  He said after his first sip.  "I don't kill kids."

 

Natalia shrugged.  "Well, if you say so."  She said.

 

"Clint Barton by the way.  I would love to have your name."  He said.  Barton gave her a crooked smile that looked as calm and relaxed as anyone else's in the square, she didn't trust it.  Everyone else there didn't know, they were completely unaware of the two of them and what they were both here for.  Everyone else wasn't expecting a politician to die just moments from now.

 

Natalia chuckled, shaking her head.  "Of course you would like to know.  Sadly, I don't have a name to give out randomly to strange men.  Perhaps I should think of one."  She said.  Barton sighed.  "You really should have left though.  I always finish my mission.  Besides, it's not even like he's a Hungarian senator.  There will be very little political unrest in the country, he's just here to stir things up."

 

"Still, you're a kid and you were sent here to kill a man."  He said slowly.  "You don't have to do that.  Whoever is making you can be stopped and SHIELD can help you."

 

"I don't need help."  She said.

 

Natalia stood up quickly, grabbing on to her coffee mug and slamming it into the side of the agent's head.  The hot coffee spilled against his face as the ceramic shattered, causing him to jerk to the side and fall from his chair.  She only had a few seconds before he could recover.  She turned to the crowd and could clearly see her target standing at the podium and ranting about something he was probably wrong about.  The gun was still carefully hidden under her coat, she grabbed it and aimed it at his head.  It was a long way, longer than she had planned for, but she could manage a distance shot.

 

The shot sounded, her target went down, and the crowd screamed.  Her mission was done, she could go home now.  Barton kicked at her legs, sending her toppling to the ground.  Natalia rolled to the side and knocked over the small table they were sitting at to separate them from one another.  Then she rolled to her feet and darted down a nearby alley way.  A quick glance behind her told her she was being followed, she had expected that.  She was fast though.  Certainly she could outrun him.

 

It would be a day or two until her extraction, she was all alone in this country until then.  She didn't get the chance to kill the agent, but the opportunity could arise for her to take care of these loose ends.  If he continued to follow her she could probably handle it very soon.  Regardless, Agent Clint Barton would have to die.  He was already too much trouble.

**Author's Note:**

> Artemis_Luna is writing the chapters from Clint's POV and Somanyfeels is writing the chapters from Natasha's.  
> Feel free to leave feedback.


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